


Word choice

by cnaught



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: But it's not not-romantic, Fluff, Gen, Miscommunication, Schrödinger's shipping, Some Swearing, it's not romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 09:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17077409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnaught/pseuds/cnaught
Summary: “I didn’t bust my ass training so some idiot could just look at my hair and call me pretty.”Otabek hmms understanding. “Dumb,” he agrees simply, and adds, “You’re not pretty.”





	Word choice

It’s Otabek’s turn to choose a movie, and since he can’t just pick something without first browsing all of French Netflix Yuri takes the time to sprawl out on the bedspread and sort through his mentions. It’s not long before he’s growling subvocally at the phone screen. Otabek turns a questioning eyebrow.

“Just, fucking press,” Yuri grumbles. “Still on the damn _Russian fairy_ thing. It’s stupid, and lazy.” He knows it isn’t worth it to leave a rude comment on the patronizing puff piece he’s looking at; it would just make him look childish, and would get the article more traffic than it deserves. He’s still tempted. “I didn’t bust my ass training so some idiot could just look at my hair and call me pretty.”

Otabek _hmm_ s understanding. “Dumb,” he agrees simply, and adds, “You’re not pretty.”

There’s no reason at all that that casual comment should make Yuri feel like the bottom’s fallen out of his stomach. None. He was literally just saying that he doesn’t want Otabek— doesn’t want _anyone_ to think of him as pretty. He hates being called pretty. (Otabek said it so easily though, like it’s clear and indisputable. But that’s kind of just how Otabek talks.)

Yuri scrolls without reading. Maybe he should post a selfie, shitty hotel-window view of the Marseille skyline in the background. Likes and praise from his sycophantic Angels are like empty calories, but…

He must have been too still, too quiet for too long. Otabek’s looking at him again. “What?”

“Nothing.” Yuri half-shrugs, a self-consciously bad imitation of someone who’s not bothered. “You’re right. All these — anytime someone calls me _cute,_ I wish they could get a good look at all my fucking bruises and, and broken toenails.” Maybe he should post a picture of _that._

Otabek frowns and sits up straighter, and Yuri swears if he’s about to spew some insincere bullshit to pad Yuri’s too-fragile ego _there will be violence_ — the one thing worse than being a self-absorbed jerk is making your friends go out of their way to coddle you, he’s not about to be _Victor_ — but what Otabek actually says is, “It’s like lightning.”

Yuri forgets to be angry for a second, because, “what?”

Otabek frowns, shakes his head a little. “That’s not a good example,” he mutters. He glances around the room, like he might find _a good example_ in the desk chair, or the wallpaper. Eventually he starts again. “When you go camping.” He looks back at Yuri, sharp and wry, and flatly amends “You’ve never been camping.”

Yuri shakes his head. “City kid. Sleep outside if you’re homeless.”

The crease of his smile deepens for a second. “Okay. _If you were to_ go camping. Out, away from everything.” He relaxes against the headboard. “At night, without the moon. The sky is… Like the whole universe is laid out in front of you.” His voice is soft, reverent. He has a faraway look, as if he could see stars through the ceiling plaster. “Colors you’d never imagine. The vastness of it.”

This is a nice reminiscence about something Yuri’s never seen. He doesn’t mind listening, but he’s about to ask if Otabek maybe had some kind of a point, when he fixes Yuri with his frank steady gaze and says, “You wouldn’t call that _pretty.”_

Yuri blinks. He feels his face warm. “Uh.”

“It doesn’t convey anything. It’s the wrong word.” He frowns, like he’s not fully satisfied with his own words. _“Pretty_ is … trivializing.” Face clearing, he nods once, to himself. “You’re not trivial. That’s why.”

Yuri says “Oh,” because he’s not sure what you’re supposed to say when your friend just compared you to a galaxy. Something transcendent and breathtaking. Non-trivial. How does he just _say_ stuff like that?

Otabek scratches his ear. “That’s what I think.” He gestures at the laptop. “Ready?”

Yuri scoots over, rearranges the too-squishy hotel pillows for back support, and settles in next to him. Otabek hits play and leans back, shoulder to shoulder.

As the title sequence rolls, Yuri wonders vaguely what it would be like to see the whole universe laid out for you. Maybe it would be worth sleeping outside, to find out. Maybe.

“Don’t put pictures of your fucked-up feet online,” Otabek murmurs.

Yuri bites back a wild grin. “You don’t tell me what to do,” he retorts.

Otabek _hmms_  subtle disapproval, but doesn’t contest the point.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like this is not an original idea. If I've subconsciously plagiarized someone, please let me know so I can credit them for inspiration.  
> Like Yuri, I am desperate for validation. If you feel like leaving a comment I would very much appreciate it.  
> Thank you for reading~


End file.
